


For want of a Hero

by junebugtwin



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adopted Children, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Blood and Injury, Broken Bones, Character Death, Child Soldiers, Crimes & Criminals, Destruction, Flooding, Found Family, Gang Violence, Gen, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Male-Female Friendship, Mutant Powers, Natural Disasters, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe, Platonic Relationships, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, Unreliable Narrator, Violence, Worldbuilding, apocalypse two electric boogaloo, shitty weather, super humans, this is not nearly as dark as it sounds in the tags, urban decay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29886471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junebugtwin/pseuds/junebugtwin
Summary: In the comics, people getting powers meant dressing up in bright costumes and swooping in to save the day- good versus evil and evil always loses. In reality, when simple humans are given the powers of gods things tend to end up more than a little apocalyptic.Cricket Evens has seen the world end more times than she cares to count, and even with powers of her own, the most she can do is keep her head above water- a task that grows harder every day, as everything seems to flood.They say when it rains it pours.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	For want of a Hero

**Author's Note:**

> Hello to the few curious people who've decided to read this! Sometimes I like to write original fiction, though I rarely ever publish it here, but I like this story enough that I thought it was worth a shot! As this is going to be a long form story there will be some plot elements and world building that may be confusing at first, and I'll explain anything that isn't a spoiler in the comments if you're unsure about something. 
> 
> Please comment with your thoughts and concerns, and let me know if you liked this! If enough people want to read more, I'll be sure to continue posting chapters :-D

There used to be a crack in the ceiling of my old room, and a single beam of muddled grey light would often shine through and land right atop my eyes, at around the same time every morning, thereby waking me up. I don’t even sleep in that room anymore, and I’m pretty sure they fixed the crack anyway, but still, the habit sticks with me.

I used to be annoyed, always opening my eyes just a few minutes before wake-up, but now I think it’s kind of peaceful. Just a few moments that I don’t have to share, where I can lay still and quiet, my eyes closed and my arms wrapped snuggly around my bed-mate. Our blanket is thin and not particularly soft, and the mattress is old and squeaky, but it’s better than my arrangements before. Besides, Theo is warm curled up against my chest, like a somewhat wriggly teddy bear with body heat.

My face is in his hair- which is getting a bit long, dark curls threatening to choke me. It smelled like the cheap soap that we made, sweat, and dirt. He breathes so softly, but pressed up against me the way he is, I can almost feel his heartbeat. The affection I feel for him in this moment is strong enough that my fingers tremble a bit under our drafty blanket, and I wonder what my emotions would look like if I could perceive them the way I do others. It’s ironic that the only person’s whose feelings are a mystery to me _is_ me. Or maybe it’s just sad?

I can hear the sharp snapping of impatience and smell the old coffee grounds of exhaustion before Hallos even bursts into the room. I don’t know much about him other than his name and that he once got his foot stuck in a fissure and had to have his boot sawed off, but he’s been on wake-up duty for three weeks now, so his emotions- especially these ones- are decently familiar to me.

“Everyone one up!” He shouts, much to the mutual displeasure of the room’s occupants. He steadfastly ignores the various complaints and grumbling- his aura doesn’t even change from its murky green-yellow color.

“You all know where you’re supposed to be, and if you don’t, then feel _free_ to ask me.” He snaps, saying the last bit the same way he would say ‘feel free to jump off a bridge’. I wait a second for Theo to sigh into my shirt, wearily distancing himself from my arms with a tired frown before he drops to the ground. No longer in danger of accidently squishing him, I push myself up, wincing as my bare feet touch the icy cement floor.

The room we are currently occupying used to be a laundry room in somebodies house, so it’s cold and dark and occasionally damp- but in the summers it’s cool even in the day and it’s much more sheltered than my last arrangement. It wasn’t made to sleep in, and if it had been, it would have probably been a room for two, maybe. Unfortunately there are six of us here, so while we’ve all managed to find places to sleep that aren’t on top of each other, when we are all up and in the room at the same time, things get a bit stuffy. Theo is tiny enough that he can dodge through legs and under arms as he searches through his things for something to wear, but despite being small and ‘vaguely mosquito proportioned’ (whatever _that_ meant) for my age, I am not a six year old boy, and therefore, have a much more difficult time avoiding people.

Sasha’s torso collides mildly with my elbow, and she gives me a low growl and a glare before she puts on her bra. Considering she does that to basically everyone all the time, I shouldn’t take it personally, but her stare makes me flinch a bit, shuffling away from her and towards the unpleasantly rough wall. Sasha doesn’t seem like a particularly mean person, but I have seen her break someone’s nose with her head, so it’s better to be safe than sorry.

I put my clothes on as quickly as I can while still half asleep, exhaustion weighing down my bones, eyes still fuzzy and aching. It’s been four years since The Flood but most days it feels like we’re all still recovering, scrambling to keep ourselves afloat. Survival means everyone works as hard as they can for as long as they can, and it also means waking up early no matter how tired you are. It sucks, but there’s no point in dwelling on it, not when everyone’s basically in the same boat.

I wear as many layers as I can, a rain jacket over my hoodie over a long sleeve over an undershirt- I wear fingerless gloves, and two pairs of socks as well. None of my clothing is particularly durable or warm, and I’ve owned some of it for long enough that they have holes and shoddily mended tears, but bundled up like this it does a decent job of protecting me from the cold.

I sling my worn black back-pack on and turn to Theo who is likewise putting on his own bag- it doesn’t quite look the same look as mine, it’s one of those fabric bags with a drawstring that I distinctly remember being used for gym clothes back in elementary school. I can tell he’s still pretty tired from his slightly unsteady movements as well as the hazy blue aura around his head that faintly smells of laundry detergent. I wish I could take all of his burdens away from him.

“You ready to go?” I ask quietly, making sure to keep my voice below the rumbling chatter of my room-mates. He stretches a bit, yawning, before sleepily nodding and making his way over to my side. He latches his hand to my own and it feels as natural and steadying as breathing- like he’s been at my side my whole life instead of just three years. His affection for me is a constant in the background of his emotions; an enduring thrum of noise that I’ve slowly come to understand is the sound of my own heartbeat from his years of sleeping next to me. I wonder what my own love for him would feel like.

We stand together, Theo quietly telling me about his dream (he was stuck in a room full of oatmeal apparently) as we wait for the rest of the rooms occupants to finish changing.

The stairs out of our room are claustrophobic things, a steep stone incline, squished between two concrete walls with barely enough room for one person to turn around. Theo is somewhat afraid of them, and I can’t even blame him for that- it feels like the kind of place where one could get trampled if they fell. It’s why we prefer to wait until the rest of the group have started their way up, before we carefully ascend after them.

I keep one hand on one of the walls as I go, cautiously watching Theo’s back in case he slips or falls.

There’s a door at the top of the stairs, and typically we’re supposed to knock loudly so that people in the hall will know the heavy wooden door is about to swing open, but no one ever seems to bother. The girl at the front of the group- Asha, one of the tallest people in our age group- is able to easily slam the old door open- where I know from experience that it can take an uncomfortable amount of time to force if you’re not strong enough.

Light trickles mistily out from the hallway, and with it, the noise that the thick wood had prevented us from hearing previously. It’s not especially loud at this time of day, with most people still vaguely asleep on their feet, but I can still hear the sound of people’s wet boots squeaking across the hardwood flooring, and mumbled sleepy conversations. The sound of rain hitting the roof has been a near constant this year, and it makes a strange melody as it hits the different portions of the building- tinging metallically against the tin roof, splattering against stone, sliding more peacefully down the old shingles.

It’s a soothing sound, though not necessarily a good one- it wouldn’t be a stretch to guess that most people around here are thoroughly annoyed with all things wet, including rain.

Exiting the cramped stairway is a relief, and Theo’s emotions seem to follow my own, the choked fog of smoke surrounding him lessening as he reattaches himself to me in the freedom of the hallway.

The building we’re in, like most of our buildings, is partially made out of the remains of a suburban house. Most of it was destroyed in one disaster or another, but a portion of one of its hallways, and a somewhat cramped bathroom were in good enough shape that they did not need too much improvement. The laundry room we just came from was a bit water logged, but otherwise totally unharmed, and had probably been used to store much more than six people back when things had just hit the fan. The rest of the building is made out of an assortment of materials, mainly stone, concrete and lumber- though there are even patches of metal here and there. There are two other sleeping rooms, each filled with six people, the aforementioned bathroom, and a sort of entrance-way boot room which is filled with various objects that are for shared use.

Theo and I head toward the exit behind the others, neatly slipping past those of us who slow down to talk to the other people living in the house. I’m familiar with some of them, enough that I nod politely in greeting if we catch each other’s eyes, but I’m not especially attached to any of them. I’m probably the warmest to Maria, a girl with dark skin and beautiful hair who seems to have a soft spot for Theo.

Theo himself is the only kid in the building, with the closest person to his age being Neil, who is quite a bit older at twelve.

Surprisingly, the boot room is somewhat crowded, with some of the lawn chairs being taken out by a few people that I vaguely recognize as living in the house across from ours. I listen carefully to Asha chat with them as I pass by, and relax when I overhear that they’re just setting up for rank-up. I’d completely forgotten about it, which wasn’t especially surprising- Theo didn’t like the violence and loud noise and I had no interest in watching a bunch of drunk adults throwing each other around, so we usually skipped it anyway.

Exiting the somewhat stuffy room was a mixed affair- the morning air was cold enough to fully wake me up, and I could appreciate the sight of the sunshine lazily trickling through the mornings mist, but at the same time, any warmth I might have retained from the indoors fled my system instantly, and I could already feel the ever-present chill begin to seep into my bones, even with all my layers.

The yard that the old occupants of this house must have called their own once upon a time was wildly overgrown- with long grass that ended just below my knees threatening to swallow the permanently worn down and cracked stone pathway that led from the waterlogged porch to the road. The dripping pine trees that surrounded the driveway to my right had grown unwieldy, their branches sagging in such a way that a car would have quite some difficulty parking, even if it _could_ make its way this far through the crumbling city. The bushes and shrubbery that had once probably been a tasteful way to get a bit of privacy from the outside world were wild and unmanageable now- making a thick and nigh impenetrable wall between the yard and the rest of the neighborhood. Mushrooms grew abundant and large, no longer threatened by lawnmowers or weed killer, and always satisfied with the near constant rain that we’d been getting over the year. Where there were natural dips in the ground water had pooled, making large muddy puddles which often hosted frogs and birds, and in the summertime, a horrible amount of mosquitos.

Since no one had the time nor inclination to trim and mow their yards these days, most of the still surviving residential areas looked like this, though I suspected our particular yard had already been fairly leafy even before all this.

Naturally, Theo loved it- really, he loved most things to do with nature, from slugs to tadpoles to pinecones and even spiders, he seemed to have a constant appetite for knowledge about the world around him. If I let him, I’m sure he would have been content to spend all day here, hopping from one plant to the next, excitedly pointing out different shapes of leaves and trails of worms. I would have been pretty content myself in that scenario.

My boots squished coldly against the mud that had mostly subsumed the stone pathway, slowing my gait just long enough for Theo to unknowingly slow down as he peered at a passing patch of clovers.

The entranceway to the street was up a small incline- nothing more than a bump, though it did have its own rickety stairs, complete with old picket railings whose white paint was mostly chipped off. I couldn’t imagine it was a convenient exit for the taller people in my building, seeing as I was pretty short myself and the overflowing bushes still managed to tug at my hair. Theo, luckily, was spared- his curly hair was definitely long enough that it would have caused a problem had he been my height or taller.

The road ahead of us was a road only by name alone- I couldn’t picture any cars being able to drive over it by any means- it was cracked and eroded by time and danger, long weeds blooming happily from its fissures and veritable lakes dwelling in its untreated potholes, which had practically mutated into their own ecosystem.

Others trailed out from our neighboring houses, jaws cracking as they covered their mouths and yawned. It was cloudy enough that we couldn’t see the sky, but even if it hadn’t been, it wasn’t the time of year where the sun would be very high anyway.

Others emotions were carried slowly to me as if on a lazy wind, and though each person’s representation was incredibly different from each other, most people were feeling similar expressions of irritation and exhaustion.

It wasn’t raining incredibly hard, more akin to a soft drizzle than anything, and I hoped that at the very least it wouldn’t get any worse, even if it probably wouldn’t get any better.

After quickly making sure Theo’s hood was properly up we began to walk, cutting across the road as swiftly as we could while avoiding the various bumps and cracks.

“What are you guys doing today?” I asked quietly, hefting Theo over a particularly deep pothole and gently placing him down on the other side before continuing. Theo retook my hand and gave it a little squeeze that probably meant ‘thank you’ and with overt care stepped around a patch of leafy green weeds that were growing out of the pavement.

“Teacher said math again cus’ none of us did very good on our tests.” Theo commented, hopping down from the road with me in sync. Together we trudged down the muddy pathway beside the house across from ours, moving along a trail that ran parallel with their driveway and cut straight through their backyard.

I smiled to myself a bit. “ _None_ of you did good?” I asked teasingly, and heard the soft grasshopper chirp of amusement spring from Theo’s head.

“Okay, _yeah_ , _I_ did good but yknow you’re not suppos’to brag Cricket.” Theo mock-seriously admonished, as if I wasn’t the one to teach him that in the first place. I huffed a laugh, and lightly nudged his shoulder.

Theo shyly waved to one of the boys in the yard beside us, a polite teen named Chen, whom I was pretty sure had an actual job training Downpours dogs. He smiled and waved back, ruffling the fur of a fluffy looking brown and white puppy who was staring at us eagerly- looking like it was barely restraining itself from charging over here and greeting us.

“What else?” I asked, pushing through the creaking fence gate at the back of the yard with a shove. That particular gate often got stuck on the brambles behind it, and so one had to kind of come at it with some momentum for it to open.

The trail went on for a couple of steps, surrounded by a few trees and some very enthusiastic hedges, and you had to climb up the logs and bins that had been arranged to get over the dark green fence that surrounded the area ahead. It was always a bit of an event, what with the way that you had to squeeze between the scratching branches of the hedges, climb, and then eventually drop down onto the other side without falling. I liked for Theo to go first so that I could watch him carefully and catch him if he fell, but it had been awhile since the last time he’d even stumbled. I supposed it was habit at this point.

Theo didn’t reply until both of us were safely over the fence and dropped down onto the other side.

“Well its rank-up tonight so I guess we’ll probably be helping out in the kitchens or something.” He mused thoughtfully, a small smile appearing on his face. Theo was a pretty optimistic kid for the circumstances, and rarely seemed to mind a day of doing labor, even if he’d be grumpily tired afterwards. It was something I loved about him, and envied in some ways.

I nodded in response, and we resumed walking in peaceful silence. Our coats were nearly soaking from brushing through the rain drenched leaves of the hedge, and our movements shook them off and onto the already wet pavement like we were our own tiny rainclouds.

The area in front of us was a parking lot, or it probably had been at one point. These days it was mostly filled with tents, especially under the one part of it that was oddly raised into a platform. The building it was surrounding must have been some sort of medical facility- most of the bigger buildings in this area seemed to be, anyhow, but its name was a mystery to me. It had a blue sign with neat white script on it that said ‘Main entrance elevators’ with an arrow, and sometimes I called it that to myself. I knew technically that it was a school now, but it’d hadn’t always been, so my first name for it had stuck more than ‘school two-nine-eight-zero’.

Most of the tents in the lot were empty, their occupants already at work or on their way, but we still remained politely silent as we passed through the small path clear of tents to the building.

The front of the school had apparently once had a fancy entrance with a bunch of glass windows, but most of it had been destroyed, so it had been rebuilt with solid dark grey brick and thick lumber- which made it look odd and mismatched the same way most places did these days.

I let go of Theo’s hand so that I could crouch down to give him a hug, relishing at the feeling of his small arms trying to wrap around me completely. It wasn’t always easy for him to be away without me, and some days were worse than others for him. Admittedly, I felt the same- having him leave my side was often was accompanied with a sharp stab of panic, or a growing sense of dread that made my hands clench and kept me distracted. It was why we tried to stick to a schedule, one that left little room for spontaneity- when he finished school he’d stay put and play with his other friends who were waiting for their guardians, and when I finished work I’d pick him up, and we’d walk home together. If he wanted to go to someone’s house (or more likely, yard) he’d wait for my permission, and if I had to work late I’d make sure to get a message to his school somehow and he’d stay at his friend Mikala’s house until I got home. It soothed both of our anxieties, and neither of us minded for the most part, even if it could be inconvenient sometimes. 

“Have a good day Theo.” I mumbled into his hair, pressing a gentle kiss to his slightly wet brown skin. He much more energetically pushed his head up into mine, and managed to just barely kiss the bottom of my chin without giving me a bleeding nose. 

“You too Cricket!” He chirped, seemingly perfectly cheerful and ready for his day- though I could see from the tinges of bright cyan blue around him that he wasn’t free from his own brand of anxiety as well. I squeezed his hand again, before getting up and watching him totter his way towards the entrance.

A few other kids around his age ran up to him, and they walked together, giggling to each other about some in-joke. Theo was a pretty popular kid; he had a ton of friends, and seemed to get along just fine with people his own age- something he definitely did not get from me.

Sighing quietly, I straightened and began walking forward. The area ahead was much different from the residential neighborhood I came from, despite only being separated by a thin greenbelt. It had once been some sort of medical center, with a big hospital in the middle and various smaller medical buildings surrounding. It didn’t have nearly as many trees, and much of the land was flattened by parking lots, walkways and roads that circled the range.

It wasn’t the most well-guarded community in the Downpour territory, which would probably be the mall or the airport, but it had decent defense, and was a much safer place to raise a kid- the mall was full of the kind of hot-headed junkies that would probably show up to the rank-up, and the airport was only for the higher members of the gang anyway.

Most people just sort of called this whole zone ‘Saint Josephs’ because apparently that was what the main building used to be called, and it was more than enough for me and Theo, even if it’s plumbing and electricity was less than stellar at the best of times. 

The clouds were still hovering over the sky in a bland sort of uniformly misty ceiling, but the sun must have been up even underneath it all because it was getting light enough that I could properly see the expressions of the others walking to work around me.

The roads here were still cracked and dented, but the worst of the jagged potholes and fractures were shoddily filled in with un-painted cement, and there was enough foot traffic that the weeds in the area were much less prominent and distracting. Theoretically, you could drive a car down here, albeit one with excellent four-wheel drive and plenty of spare tires.

I walked steadily through multiple parking lots, carefully winding my way between bigger groups of people without looking at them. My powers were pretty handy on that account, as I could sort of feel where each person was by my distance to their emotions, which would get more intense the closer I got. When I first chimed it had been beyond overwhelming, to be constantly bombarded with sounds and scents and colors straight from other people’s memories, constantly shifting with no two alike- crowded rooms had made me dizzy and panicky, and I’d avoided getting close to people like the plague. Or at least, I tried- but really, it was hard to do in this sort of close knit community, especially when taking care of a child, and so I’d had to get used to it pretty quick. A trial by fire, or however it was that the saying went.

These days I was mostly fine with my powers, even when I was in a crowded room or right beside people- it wasn’t exactly comfortable, but I’d learnt to ignore certain senses, until most people’s emotions were distracting and not debilitating.

Still, it was nice to avoid large groups when I had the freedom to do so.

The easiest way to get to the main square was to cut through a few parking lots and ignore the sidewalks and roads that had been paved out by people with much more time on their hands, and so much of the grass that laid between one area to the next was trampled into a muddy pathway that seemed to be ever expanding as people tried to walk on the edge of it to avoid the deepest of the mud. Eventually they’d probably have to set up wooden boards to walk over like they had for a few other places, but I didn’t see it happening any time soon.

The main entrance to the Saint Joseph’s Hospital Center had probably been quite lovely once upon a time, filled with pretty walkways and neat flower gardens that cleanly separated the hospitals lawn from its parking lot, but it was a lot less scenic now.

The aesthetically pleasing flowers, bushes and trees had been dug up for space and firewood ages ago, and the carefully mowed grass was either sprawling and long in areas that weren’t populated, or stamped into vaguely watery dirt in the areas that were. Tents of all shapes and sizes were spread out across the area, as well as a few shoddy looking shacks and hastily taped together vans. The roads, parking lots and walkways were ironically the most densely populated with make-shift homes, and therefore the hardest to walk through- and the dirt stained grass patches were less so, with plenty of clumsily made walkways spanning from mediocre home to mediocre home like little driveways made out of old planks and splotched cardboard.

When I’d first joined Downpour I’d lived in a place like this one, albeit in a different community and without all the mud- (The Flood hadn’t even happened yet) - and it been the opposite of a comfortable living environment, albeit better when compared to my previous situation.

At the very least, living in a tent camp so close to the center of the community meant easy access to food and resources, and extra protection against Vespers and bandits- even if it wasn’t exactly the dream shelter wise.

I turned and headed towards the job office, which was a bit of a misnomer, considering it was just a booth surrounded by tarp on three sides laid at the entrance to the main building. At least it was protected from the weather by the giant concrete overhang that shadowed the entrance.

There was three lines of people leading up to the booth, which I knew by experience was sorted into combat, and skilled and unskilled labor from left to right. I quietly stood at the end of the farthest line to the left, shuffling slowly as the trail of people progressed forward.

People weren’t yelling or anything but it wasn’t exactly quiet either, friends or acquaintances having conversations from across lines, others muttering spitefully about the weather. And of course, there was the typical signs of people bemoaning and bickering at the booths, unhappy with the job they were assigned and crabby enough to complain about it. The bellyaching never lasted long, and it rarely ever got violent, which made sense considering the two guards who were openly armed with rifles on either side of the booth.

The line progressed at a decent enough rate- certainly not the slowest it’d had ever been, and soon enough I was stood in front of the job officer for today, a tired looking black man with an neatly combed beard- his name, or at least his last name, was Mickenels, which I knew because he’d once worked with me before his leg had been crushed. He seemed like a nice enough person from what I’d seen, and despite his injury and the downgrade in position he seemed to be in fairly good humor, his aura radiating the soothing warmth of sunshine playing down ones skin.

He smiled politely at me, though with no recognition in his eyes, which was hardly surprising.

“Name?” He asked, and I quickly grabbed my card from my jacket pocket, flashing it at him as I spoke. I hadn’t gotten a card back when I was working in unskilled labor, but then I suppose there’s no need to forge an identity into a job no one wants anyway.

“Cricket Evens.” I said at a moderate volume, hands a little sweaty at the act of raising my voice above a mutter to a stranger. He nodded swiftly before peering down at his damp looking papers, shuffling through his list for a moment until he found what he was looking for.

“…hmm, okay, let’s see…aha! Okay Miss Evens, you’re on patrol today, east outskirts from eight to three, and afterwards it looks like you’ll be in combat storage from four-ish to five. After that you’re done and can do what you want, though as an active combatant you’re offered a ticket to the rank-up ceremony free of charge.” He stated cheerfully, handing me a small beige scrap of paper which I could fit into the plastic pocket of my personal card. I did so neatly, so as to not offend the man in front of me, though I had no intention of going to the event. Or at least, I’d only swing by to grab some food and then leave.

I nodded my thanks to Officer Mickenels and promptly left the line, heading back towards the direction I came from at a decent speed. The trucks that would take me to the eastern outskirts were located past the road that turned into my neighborhood, through a veritable field of roads and parking lots, and through a small line of trees which ran parallel to the highway. The highway itself would be where the vehicles were waiting, and while I had enough time to get there if I sort of power walked, I’d be late if I went at a much slower pace.

I had a good enough record that being late would probably just lessen my rations for a day or two, but one never knew when there’d be a shortage, and if it happened while my food intake was lessened then I’d be put in an uncomfortable position.

And besides that, some of the other more aggressive members might not even care about my records or years of good behavior- after all, while Downpour had somewhat transformed into a place that supported communities and had some infrastructure and self-sustaining properties, it was originally a _gang_ , and most of the competitive members still pretty much thought of it as one. Which it was- kind of.

I made sure to breathe evenly as my pace increased, looking ahead and keeping my posture straight so that air could more easily find its way into my lungs.

I hadn’t been athletic necessarily, back before the NCP, but I wasn’t exactly lazy either- I didn’t do any sports and I hadn’t had much use for playing with other kids, but running had been a pretty basic requirement of my life, and if anything it was more so now. I wasn’t going to be the fastest one in any race, not with these legs- which while long for my proportions weren’t particularly impressive- but I had a good amount of endurance and I wasn’t _slow_ by any means.

I didn’t really have the time to stop and reflect on my scenery, not that it was impressive anyways, with belt after belt of parking lots that were empty of cars and full of tents, mostly sticking alongside the decently sized road which slithered around the main building.

Eventually I left it, crossing to a different path and trotting around yet another parking lot, starting to feel slightly tired as a neared the approaching green belt. The woods here were a tad bigger and denser than that of the paltry pine trees and hedges that Theo and I regularly crossed, but the trail leading through them was much nicer to walk through, seeing as somebody had put in a bit of maintenance to keep the branches out of the way of the path.

The highway itself was relatively well cared for, especially in comparison to the roads before- and though some of it still had a myriad of spider web cracks and weeds it was free of any potholes major or minor, and any catastrophically big fissures in the pavement had been smoothed over.

There had probably been a concrete barrier dividing the road into two, but it had been knocked over and somewhat smoothed down, so that it could fit as many trucks of people as possible in case of an emergency. If Bellingham was a proper city with actual traffic then this would obviously be a major problem, but as it was, the only people who drove cars here were the people who the higher ups in the gang had _allowed_ to drive them- which was probably around fifty people at most.

There were two trucks stalled on the road ahead, both in fairly good condition, one which had an advertisement for a brand of spicy potato chips, and the other which was a perfectly nondescript grey. Both were painted to have the Downpour symbol on their side, a skull made out of water breathing lighting- though these were put on the vehicles long ago enough that it was hard to tell that was what they were depicting.

There was a medium sized group of people that I vaguely recognized from my other patrol shifts, some chatting together amicably, some positioned towards the back of the truck in the process of getting their gear on, and some simply waiting without talking to anyone. I couldn’t blame them- socializing was hard, and even if it wasn’t, the wind which I’d been somewhat protected from before by trees and buildings was ungraciously cold now, and threw the smattering of rain at us just a bit harder- not exactly putting people in the talking mood.

I swiftly moved towards the truck where the gear was being kept, putting enough effort into my steps that others could easily hear my boots against the wet pavement and get out of the way without me having to talk to them. It wasn’t exactly my favorite tactic, as I pretty much universally cringed away from making loud noises, but it worked most of the time to my favor so I kept it in my arsenal. Sunny would have said the best way to keep strangers from bothering you was to look like the scariest person in the crowd, but I pretty much universally disagreed with that tactic.

Slipping on my gear had once been enough to make my breath grow thin and my heart rate sputter- too many little pieces to put on, too many straps I couldn’t reach, and I’d never worn anything like it before- since I hadn’t been into sports- so the fear of doing something wrong and having to ask someone for help, or worse yet, having a superior _yell_ at me- it had been practically paralyzing.

I’d never gotten yelled at for that exact crime thankfully, and I never ended up asking or getting any help, just sort of vaguely struggling day by day until I eventually learned how to do it properly. Or mostly properly- again I didn’t exactly ask if I was doing it right, so it was entirely possible there were some small details which I was messing up- but on the whole it wasn’t as much of a problem anymore.

It was nice to feel like I wasn’t completely incompetent.

The gear we got was kind of like armor, though nowhere near as protective or heavy- it was basically just padded chunks of a somewhat sturdy material, with the chest piece being by far the most durable- I’d heard tell that it was bullet proof, but I doubted it. Either way, it was better than going out of town with nothing but a few layers of worn down clothing.

I also technically got a gun, a small pistol with a decent amount of ammo, though in most cases I would never use it. It wasn’t that I’d never see combat, because I certainly had, but half the time the people we were fighting were in gear that actually _was_ bulletproof, and some of them couldn’t be hurt that way anyhow.

This meant that most people were given bigger more powerful guns, but it also meant that a lot of the people who were conscripted didn’t even _need_ conventional weaponry. The pistols were just a precaution because around a third of us had powers.

I finished checking and cleaning my gun as quickly as I could, correctly predicting that we were about to be briefed in a moment.

“Alright everyone stationed for the east outskirts come line up over here!” Boomed a decently intimidating voice, one which no doubt belonged to Ren Hepburn, or Arsenic, if we were on the field.

Ren was a tall well-muscled man in his thirties, blonde hair almost always shaved and green eyes almost always harsh. Rumors indicated that he’d once been stationed up by the airport, where most of the real action went on, and been demoted for one reason or another down here. I wasn’t sure how accurate the gossip was, but I did know that he certainly was unhappy about _something_ , his aura tasting constantly of warm milk and smelling like overly strong perfume. 

Obediently, I jog behind the others, sorting ourselves into a vaguely neat lineup in front of the man. I’ve noticed that a large percentage of the inner gang enforcers tend to be men in their twenties to thirties, but groups that mainly consist of Irregulars, like this one, are much more varied, both in age and gender. It’s interesting and seems sort of random, but it did make sense if you thought about it- powers didn’t chime into any one ‘type’ of person, seeming to spread in no particular order of age, race, gender or religion. Though now that I thought about it, I’d never met or heard of an old person or a baby getting powers, though that might just be my limited scope.

“We’re gonna be doing a patrol on foot down by the wires, cuttin’ through the fields and following them east til’ we get to the Northside Church, where we’ll break for lunch before movin’ back through the trees til’ we find the main road. Luckily for us we’re gettin’ picked up today, so I don’t wanna hear any complaining while we walk. Any questions?” He barks, not yelling but also not-not yelling either. No one has questions.

“Good. Now get in the truck an’ play nice, an’ if I hear any bickering I’ll cut out the whole damn lot of you’s tongues.” He snaps, massaging his head tiredly before moving towards the passenger’s seat in the trucks cabin. Somewhat subdued, we all shuffle into the back of the truck.

I’ve ridden in these this way plenty of times before, but while it no longer scares me quite the way it once had, it’s still never pleasant. In the summers it’s hot and damp, and absolutely awful smelling with all of us sweating away, and the rest of the year it’s frigid and wet, with everything vaguely soaked with mud and rainwater despite most people’s best efforts to bang of their boots before they get on.

Sitting at the end of the truck is generally warmer and safer, but also entirely claustrophobic and with no easy exit, siting in the middle is cramped and stuffy, and sitting at the entrance is cold and more vulnerable to being shot, but at least your exits clear. This means that generally, the front and the back are equally depressing to be in and the middle is much worse, so when I can, I try to aim for the first two.

This time I end up at the back of the line, and therefor at the entrance, which is good enough for me. The benches we sit on are wooden and span the length of the truck, with some of the end sawed uncleanly off so that they will fit. They were moved from a nearby elementary school by hand, which I only know because I was one of the people who helped move them. _That_ had been a truly miserable day.

As one of the people at the entrance I help shut the sturdy metal doors, locking them firmly before I move back into my spot and settle in. The distance from the highway to the power lines takes around forty minutes, which is not enough time to try to get a nap in unless you are particularly skilled at falling asleep. Most people spend the ride talking or playing basic word games out of sheer boredom, though I’ve seen the occasional person take a book out of their bag to read if they’re close enough to the door for there to be light.

Typically I spend most of the ride in a sort of peaceful haze, not really doing anything other than thinking- letting my eyes un-focus as I stare at the growing puddle beneath my boots. It’s not fun, or really all that entertaining, but it’s decently restful, if I’m careful to keep my thought light and inconsequential.

Today I sit and wonder about what kind of food the cafeteria will be serving for dinner now that I hear we’ve got another potato field up and running. I’ve never personally worked in the kitchen, but I seriously doubt we have a deep-fryer, so we can’t have french fries- though I suppose we could always cook potato wedges in the oven and season them with salt, which is pretty close to French fries. That would be really nice- I know that one of Theo’s more clear memories of before was eating at McDonalds, and while it probably wouldn’t taste the same he was also too young to really remember the exact flavor regardless.

What else can someone even do with potatoes anyway? Soup I guess, and stew too, and obviously potato salad, though I don’t know if we’d have enough eggs. Or mayonnaise- which we’d probably have to make from scrap since it’s not like the ones left over in stores would be good to eat. What’s even in mayo? Eggs I think, but what else?

“Hey- you’re Cricket right?” I jolt, taken out of my own thoughts by the sound of my name, my heart beating a bit faster at being directly addressed by a stranger. I lookup warily, hands tensing on my lap.

The person talking to me from directly across the aisle isn’t actually a complete stranger, I’ve seen her on multiple different patrols and fights, though we’ve never talked before, so I have no idea how she knows my name. She goes by Foggy most of the time, though I’m pretty sure her ‘civilian’ name starts with an S. She’s tall, intimidatingly built, and seems to be in her early twenties if I had to guess. Her hair is a dark chocolate brown and almost always pulled back into a neat ponytail, and she looks to be vaguely Asian though I have no idea what her exact ethnicity is, which does make me feel a bit bad. 

I don’t know the exact nature of her powers, though most people won’t unless you tell them, considering how strangely specific and weird most of them are- but I do know that she can breathe out wisps of thick white mist- or at least it looks like mist. It’s not poisonous, or at least, not enough for it to be noticeable, so mostly she uses it for cover so she can sneak in and kill enemies without having to waste her ammo. I’m pretty sure she can see through it herself, or else has some other way of knowing her surroundings, but then again that’s all just speculation on my part.

I nod hesitantly in response.

She hums a bit in affirmation, cracking her knuckles as she considers her words, ponytail waving rhythmically back and forth with the trucks bumpy movements. Her emotions are mostly calm, curiosity brimming in the gentle waters of a stream, thoughtfulness in the smell of an old dusty book. I relax slightly but keep watching her in case things change.

“You heard anything about the rumors being passed along about those Guidance goons creeping around the coast?” She asks quietly, and though her aura sparks slightly yellow with worry for the most part it stays the same. I shift, trying to figure out her motivations, before finally nodding in response.

She nods as well, looking like she expected as much, which is curious.

“You think they got any weight to them?” She asks carefully, boots splashing slightly on the wet metal floor as we go over a small bump.

I shrug. “Maybe. A lot of people are talking about it, and it doesn’t seem unreasonable.” I answer, hands clenching and unclenching with nerves- I hadn’t prepared at all to talk to someone inside the truck, and it’s taking me a moment to get over the surprise.

“Why are you asking me?” I murmur softly, pitching my voice only loud enough that she can hear me. It doesn’t feel good, to demand answers in return, it feels like I’m being overly suspicious or annoying, though I’m hazily aware that some of that is just paranoia.

Foggy cocks her head silently, apparently thinking over her answer.

“I dunno, you always struck me as the observant type I guess, sitting all quietly while other people talk. Just a feeling I got.” It’s unnerving that anyone notices me at all, let alone well enough to form a somewhat correct opinion about me, and I try to keep the discomfort off of my face.

“I see.” I reply, somewhat meaninglessly, before letting the conversation die out entirely. Foggy looks satisfied enough with what I’ve confirmed.

It _is_ a little worrying; the amount of gossip that’s been going around lately about Guidance- it doesn’t seem like it should be true, Downpour is a fairly big gang sure, but it’s not as if it owns very worthwhile territory, what with being in a Dead Zone. There’s no reason why Guidance, and for that matter, OVERSEER would spend any resources trying to get a place back which they’d handily given up the first time around. Still, I can’t help but feel a little chill run up my back at the thought.

I sit up a bit as I start to feel the truck coming to a halt, shouldering my bag more firmly and putting any off-task thoughts out of my mind for the moment. The east outskirts weren’t exactly brimming with hostiles most of the time, but occasionally we got bandits pushed our way by the Vespers at Abbotsford, and though most of them were relatively untrained, it didn’t take a genius to kill you with a bullet. 

Once the truck came to a full stop me and another person got up and undid the latch, swinging the doors open wide.

The cold that immediately poured into the truck was somewhat miserable, but it was nice to see that the rain seemed to have stopped for now. I wasn’t betting on it staying away for long, with how the clouds hung thick and ominously, but it was nice to get a break when we could.

I hopped swiftly out of the trucks dark confines, squinting a bit as my eyes took a moment to get used to the light again. I was practiced enough at lining up in a typical patrol formation that it didn’t need much thought, allowing me to take a second to wipe at my eyes before looking around.

Being this far from Bellingham meant that the area hadn’t been destroyed so much as it had simply been left to overgrow- the road was in decent enough shape, though it had a good amount of long grass growing through the pavement, and the area around them was free of any pocket marks of destruction or rubble.

Looking out to the side and seeing miles of bright green shrubbery unobstructed by trees -which had been cleared out long ago when people originally made the power lines- was almost scenic, if one didn’t know they were going to have to wade through the endlessly dense brush on foot.

I knew from experience that I was going to be sore and aching by the time we made it to the church, and although my legs protested at the memory I got dutifully ready to move- it wasn’t as if I really had a choice anyhow.

Once we were all arranged into a somewhat shaky triangle, -with the supplies meant for the Northside Church and the people carrying them put safely in the center- Ren let out a sharp whistle, and we marched forward.

Marched was probably an exaggeration, we were a weirdly domestic gang not a military, so it was more like a speedy walk. Breaking through the first bit of overgrowth was always the hardest part, but I could assure myself things would get slightly easier once I was in because I was on the right side of the triangle, near the back, and thus had a pretty good view of the people ahead of me.

The pressure and sharpness of the thistles and branches I was basically swimming through would have pierced through at least two of my layers had I not been wearing gear, and I knew that for a fact because one of the times I wore it wrong it had.

In some ways, patrolling was a lot like sitting in the truck and waiting to get to your destination- there wasn’t much me or anyone else could do to speed things up, beyond go faster and exhaust ourselves, and there was a certain mindless meditation that was similar too.

Unfortunately I couldn’t tune out completely- I had to remain a certain distance from the others and keep the triangle formation at least somewhat coherent, and making sure no one crossed over onto Downpours territory was kind of the whole point of patrolling, so I had to keep my eyes on the scenery for more than just aesthetic purposes.

Still, the sharp paranoia and caution that I always started these walks out with would eventually fade to a simmer as we got farther and farther along without problem. I was certainly never relaxed, but it was nothing like the first time I’d done a patrol where I’d been so high strung that I’d been panicking at every snapping twig- and my patrol leader had hit me across the head to try and snap me out of it. For reasons that were obvious only to me, getting physically hit by a large adult man at thirteen hadn’t exactly calmed me down, and the rest of the patrol had been worse for it- with my paranoia swinging from being anxious about bandits to being anxious about my patrol leader.

It wasn’t a fond memory, and it certainly wasn’t funny to look back on, but it did make me glad that I was existing in _not_ then, which was at least something.

We passed over a small hill and by an electric grid, or generator, or whatever it was that it was called- frankly I had no idea, and it didn’t exactly advertise itself, what with just being a bunch of metal poles and wires sticking out of the ground, surrounded by a rusted chain link fence, but it wasn’t especially important I know anyway.

We clambered over a small road almost completely covered in raspberry bushes and wild flowers, and I kept an eye out for any berries I could snag, but unfortunately it wasn’t the right season.

There was a nearby pond that was basically overflowing with muddy water, no thanks to the constant rain that we’d had, and as a collective our whole group seemed to decide to neatly go around the marshy area that surrounded it, before moving back into a straight line.

We passed a small skinny road which I knew lead to a town so tiny that it was more like a village, and even then that seemed too grand a word for it- it was a collection of a few old farm houses following a road, which, as far as I knew, didn’t even have a store.

I’d heard that there was a small family living out there, apparently they’d come over to trade with us every once and awhile, though I’d never seen it. The thought was cheerful in a way that made my chest warm- the idea of living a bit out of the way with those closest to me, while still being near enough to a community that I could see them every so often- it seemed peaceful really, the ideal scenario.

There was an odd sort of thrumming noise in the air, and I stopped dead in my tracks, turning my head towards the sound as swiftly as I could- which happened to bring my eyes up, up, and up, where, to my horror, I could see an aircraft moving through the sky.

Moving towards _us_.

The rest of the group, either reacting to my movements or simply hearing the noise for themselves froze, all turning to stare bewildered at the thing in the sky.

There was a single moment before the fear hit where the key emotion of the group was incredulous rather than panicked- random stragglers accidentally going too far, bandit groups, even the stray Vesper looking for trouble- these were the things we were used to, especially on this patrol- a coordinated attack of any type would have been dumbfounding, but an _aircraft_?? It was almost silly.

And then the terror hit- sharp and stinging and entirely unpleasant no matter _who_ the sensation was coming from. Ren snapped into action, brining his gun up to air at the obtrusive metal beast in the sky with a growl.

“Everybody fan out, find cover, and start firin’, we got goddamn hostiles!”

I gasped, realizing abruptly that I hadn’t exhaled for a few moments before springing to follow his commands.

The reason we patrolled along this route in the first place was- at least I assumed- because of the lack of tree cover that would have made spotting intruders near impossible, and made covering ground about three times as slow. It was an almost entirely beneficial arrangement, except for in the specific and never before seen situation in which someone decided to attack Downpour with _fucking_ planes.

Finding _cover_ was not exactly convenient. Still, if my choices were between scrambling to get to a small grouping of trees that had grown in with the lack of upkeep, and dying, then my decision was already made.

I sprinted as quickly as I could in waist high thicket that felt more solid now that I needed to get through it _fast_ , and practically dove under the relative safety of the squat green trees.

Seemingly the moment I slammed into the muddy ground all hell broke loose- the noise of the aircraft had increased to a truly unnerving volume, and it felt like the ground shook with the loud crashing noise that exploded a little ways in front of us.

My breath was coming in enormous gasps that felt so forceful that they’d burst through my throat, and all I wanted to do was hide huddled safe under the shrubbery- but even if it felt like it, I _wasn’t_ safe, and staying still and praying the danger would go away had never especially worked for me in the past.

I wasn’t helpless, not anymore, and at the very least I could be useful- and I _would_ be useful, if I ever wanted to hold Theo again I _had_ to be.

I peeked through the greenery cautiously, determined to do something even if it felt impossible that I could. I’d fought before, and I knew for a fact I could win, that I could _kill_ \- I just had to remember that.

The source of the sound that had almost burst my eardrums became clear as soon as I positioned my head above the long grass- they’d dropped some sort of vaguely humanoid gigantic robot, metal shining in the sun, blazed with bright artificial reds and whites- the intensity of the color was almost as shocking as the thing itself- it’d had been years since I’d seen anything so new and clean and _vibrant_.

It looked enormously strong, which probably had to do with its massive hands that could and probably would squish a human being easily, along with two terrifyingly high tech guns mounted on its shoulders.

People covered in slick futuristic jumpsuits and armor were jumping down from the down hovering ship- which looked like something out of a sci-fi movie up close. There was some sort of speech or dialogue being played out via the ships speakers, but for the life of me I couldn’t parse it- it was too loud and grating and horrifying, or maybe that was the drum of my heart, blasting everything else into white noise with the speed at which it was pumping.

Either way, I didn’t have time to wait for my body to go out of fight or flight; I had to strike _now_ , before one of those guns was pointing in my direction.

I’d never been so thankful for my powers in my life as the moment I realized that the robot was actually being piloted by someone, thanks to the sharp and precise sound of a violin that was the pilots representation of focus.

I didn’t need to raise my hands or point, or even look at my target like some Irregulars; all I needed was a clear idea of where they were, and a memory.

Luckily- or unluckily, in all scenarios but combat- my powers included the side benefit of perfect memory- which wasn’t something I’d had or wanted before I’d chimed. I was rather thankful for it now.

I focused on the pilot of the mech and brought back the intense pressure of my arm being bent farther and farther from the way it was meant to, the dread that had been thicker than the air, choking me and sliding down my throat heavy like wet sand, slowly filling my lungs and my stomach and my bones, until I was fit to burst with panic. I think about how _final_ the snap of my bone breaking had been, how the pain had exploded at my arm and radiated through the rest of my body in all-encompassing waves. The way my eyes had burned with tears and my nose had been full with snot, how my cheeks had ached from the open mouthed scream that had been torn from me, how I’d been burning up, hot, and now my arm was scorching like fire, like lava, like sticking your hand into a pot of boiling water and waiting until the flesh melted off your skin and the sensation went from excruciatingly hot to a blisteringly cruel cold, and,-

The mech stumbled to the side harshly, as if struck by some invisible blow, collapsing onto a metal knee that dug thickly into the mud and earth, uprooting plants and knocking down small trees as easily as Theo might a brush a pencil off a desk. 

It was gripping one of its metal arms tightly with the other at around the elbow joint, hunched over with its flat seamless head ducked low.

If that didn’t paint a clear enough picture of the pilots mental state, then my own senses did- their aura was radiating bright strings of violent red pain, struggling and lashing like snakes being fried alive- the smell of their panic was the thick stench of gasoline, and it was almost overpowering, even from my distance.

I wasn’t feeling entirely great myself- by the very nature of the memory I’d chosen my hands were shaking and my eyes were blurry, breath coming out in pathetic gasps. I very much wanted to curl up in a ball and think of anything else until I could ground myself in the moment, but I didn’t have the time or the luxury for such a thing currently.

The rest of the hostiles, the ones on foot, each broadcasted their own less forceful but equally honest emotional turmoil, ranging from concern, to anger, to gut clenching fear over the seemingly random collapse of the robot suit.

I couldn’t help but feel a stab of guilt and anxiety- it was incredibly hard to distance myself from the enemy when I could smell, taste and touch their deepest emotions- but I had to, for Theo’s sake.

Besides- the person in the mech wasn’t going to be permanently harmed by this, physically or mentally- my affect only lasted for as long as I willed it to and only if they were in a certain radius from me, they’d be _fine_. It felt like a shallow comfort but there it was.

Using the rather loud and spectacular collapse of the robot as the chance they needed to distract the enemy, the others in my gang started to fire. I could see a few high voltage bullets which I knew would explode violently on impact, and shotgun blasts aimed at the brightly colored people- the sound of which echoed harshly enough in the clearing to hurt my ears.

Other Irregulars on my side took the time to attack as well, and I could see someone throwing some sort of strange purple fire ball, or another person- who I’d fought with before, Thomas- turn his hands into spiked chains and race towards the enemy. I didn’t see any of Foggy’s mist, though I can only assume that she decided not to use it because her power would blind the rest of us just as much as it would her targets. 

The enemy- who at this point I had to assume where either a rouge group of Vespers or, god forbid, members of Guidance- started to retaliate, snapping out of the shock that my attack had caused.

I began to search for another target, but the chaos of the battle, thickness of the plant life, and relatively diminutive size of the Vespers compared to my previous mark made this task far more complicated than I needed it to be.

After a moment, I spotted what looked like a woman in a bright pink costume who had- much to my brief shock- transformed her head into two giant _snakes_ , and was stood still while her…heads were whipping about, tearing at my comrades, the neck of each serpent freakishly long and with no clear point they couldn’t stretch to.

I steadied myself, still a little shaken from my last strike, and dove into my memories.

This time I picked something a bit less traumatic- the sound of a nearby gunshot in an alleyway outside my old hideaway, how it woke me from my sleep so abruptly that it had felt like my heart was going to pound right out of my chest and onto the graffitied brick in front of me.

Shock, I’d found, was nearly as good as pain at unbalancing people, and since my power was continuous until I shut if off or my target ran away, the jarring crash of the memory simply repeated on loop- the surprise and brief terror that I’d forced onto the woman would not soften or grow less effective over time, nor would it build- it was much more difficult to escape or work through than most people seemed to think.

The costumed woman reared back wildly, toppling onto her side and scrambling to get away from the perceived threat- her twin snake heads were not especially emotive facially, but the way they were swinging about in jittering horror was.

I panted, a bit strained now that I was using my power on more than one person. I’d only ever pushed it to five, and I hadn’t lasted long at all- two was much easier to uphold but it was taxing in a way that even physical activity wasn’t, like I was tired down to my soul instead of muscle.

Twigs snapped beside me and I snapped my entire body around, scrambling into a crouch and letting out an involuntary noise of fear as a man in a bright blue uniform stepped out of the bushes.

He was much taller than me, with unnaturally large muscles and freakishly clean black hair poking out from his mask. The mask itself was navy blue with detailed light cyan snowflakes trickling down from eerily blank white eyes like tears. Everything from his nose down was bare, revealing a pale chin and a light sprinkling of facial hair.

I pushed myself backwards, hands clambering clumsily over lumps of mud and sharp thorns, feet digging in the wet earth frantically for the strength to push myself upright and run.

The man tilted his head down, creepy eyes narrowing and mouth down-turning as he looked at me, my own panic too great to even bother contemplating his emotions.

“You-“ He spoke, voice low, and raised his hand. Not willing to let him finish that particular classic, I lashed out with my power- picturing the absolute panic I was feeling right now and sending it to him with as much force as I could muster.

He flinched backwards, eyes blowing wide, and flew out one hand to cover his head and the other to—

A giant wall of gleaming ice in the shape of a fist rose from the ground quicker than I could contemplate, and the resulting burst of pain that accompanied it slamming into me was blessedly brief.


End file.
